


Children of Dathomir

by queenseamoose



Category: Star Wars Legends: The Old Republic (Video Game)
Genre: Gen, Prequel, before the treaty of coruscant
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-14
Updated: 2019-09-14
Packaged: 2020-10-18 14:06:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,184
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20640413
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/queenseamoose/pseuds/queenseamoose
Summary: As the Sith Empire attacks Dathomir, a Nightsister clan sends its youth to flee the planet. But the Empire isn't far behind, and soon enough they find themselves scattered.





	1. Exodus

**Author's Note:**

> This is a prequel to one of my worldstates, taking place shortly before the Treaty of Coruscant. I'm playing fast and loose with canon here, mainly with the fact that the Dathomirian species even exists at this point in galactic history.

“I can’t reach it.” Tanith twisted her shoulder, flattening her body against the floor as she reached under the bed, fingers groping wildly. Behind her, Aislin gave a huff of impatience.

“Well, try harder!” she urged. “I need it!” There was a scuffling of footsteps, and then another voice from the hallway.

“Aren’t you coming? I think they’re ready.”

“We’ll be there in a minute.” Aislin dropped to her knees beside Tanith as the footsteps faded away. “Can you see it?” she asked, peering into the darkness beneath the bed.

“Not with you blocking the light.” Tanith froze as her fingers brushed against something metallic, and moments later she was crawling back out, the cosmetics tube clutched tightly in her fist. “I got it!” she crowed triumphantly as she scrambled to her feet.

“You’re the best, Tan.” Aislin tossed it into her bag, giving one last glance around the room. “Let’s get out of here.”

The halls felt strangely empty as they dashed through them, feet echoing through the silence, and soon enough, they emerged onto the landing platform. There were still a few bustles of activity, other girls grouping together and boarding the ship, but it was clear that they were late. As if to further emphasize the point, the engines roared to life, preparing for takeoff.

Their destination was easily identified by the sight of their grandmother standing at the bottom of the ramp, but as they approached, Tanith felt her feet growing heavy, pulling her to a stop. Ahead of her, Aislin paused, turning back with a frown. “What is it?”

“I…” There was a lump quickly growing in her throat. “I don’t want to leave.” It was nearly nightfall, the low red glow of the sun hanging heavy across her shoulders like a comforting blanket, and she could feel the panic beginning to rise. What if she never saw home again?

Aislin’s face twisted into a grimace, but she stepped forward to link her arm with Tanith’s, tugging gently on her elbow. “We’ve gotta go,” she gently reminded. “Grandmother looks angry.”

It was true—the matriarch’s eyes narrowed into slits as she stared in their direction, and Tanith silently reminded herself that she didn’t have a choice.

But the other figure at the foot of the ramp appeared far more perturbed at their delay. “Where have you been?” Vesper demanded. “The boys are already on board.”

Her sister wasn’t normally this commanding—annoying, to be sure, but a sobering reminder of the danger they were in. Aislin, however, immediately bristled.

“Wow, who put you in charge?”

Vesper opened her mouth to reply, but their grandmother’s voice interrupted. 

“I did, actually.” Her piercing stare was fixed on Aislin as she stepped forward, clasping her hands on Vesper’s shoulders. “Go on, then,” she urged, her unwavering smile, as always, more terrifying than her glare. “Do as she says.”

“Yes, Grandmother.” Aislin meekly ducked her head as she scurried onboard, Tanith hurrying along after on her heels. But at the top of the ramp, she paused, casting a glance back over her shoulder. Beyond the landing pad, she could make out the lazy curls of the trees disappearing into the shadow of the mountain. Her last sight of home—for how long? Maybe forever.

She inhaled deeply, trying to commit every detail to memory, but something else caught her attention, a disturbance in the serenity, a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach.

Her gaze flickered back over to Vesper and their grandmother, still deep in conversation. Vesper’s head was bowed, and she was nodding as their grandmother spoke. Something wasn’t right here, and Tanith felt her pulse quickening. She suddenly felt the urge to run screaming down the ramp and disappear into the forest, never to be seen again.

“Hey.” She jumped as Aislin poked her head out from the airlock. “You coming?”

Tanith swallowed hard. “Yeah,” she muttered, hurrying onboard. The transition from the gentle glow of the Dathomir sunset to the harsh white lights of the interior was jarring, and she blinked as her eyes struggled to adjust. Every head turned in their direction as they entered the main hold, but Tanith felt her unease begin to dissolve as she caught sight of a friendly face among the crowd.

“Hey, loser,” her twin greeted as she dropped into an empty seat beside him.

“Hey, baby brother,” she replied, letting her bag slide to the ground. He kicked her ankle at the reminder of their eleven-minute age gap, and she elbowed him in response.

“Tibor! Look at you, all grown up!” Aislin called as she settled her other side, and Tanith hid her grin as her brother grimaced. As much as she herself liked to tease him about being the youngest, Aislin seemed to take a particularly savage joy from it. It didn’t help that it’d been several years since they’d seen him—and he’d been far behind her in terms of growth spurts.

But unlike the last time, he was the very picture of calm as he leaned forward to address their cousin. “Hey Aislin,” he said. “Come here a minute.” Aislin’s eyebrows rose—no doubt she was remembering various pranks from their youth, but she obliged anyway, leaving her bag on the seat to crouch in front of them.

“I just thought you’d want to know,” Tibor said, glancing around as he lowered his voice. But all other members of their clan seemed preoccupied with their own conversations as he continued. “Vesper’s piloting. Grandmother said so before you got here. But she let her pick her copilot, and apparently she’s picking your brother.”

“Seriously?” Aislin hissed, and Tanith stifled a giggle. Aislin had always been at odds with her surly older brother, and her disdain for him only grew the older they got. “What’s she thinking? Is she __trying__ to get us killed?”

“Shhh.” Tibor leaned in eagerly. “Now everyone’s mad.”

“At him?”

“At Vesper. And Grandmother. Maybe even us. Some people were saying she should have picked another Sister, and some were upset that everyone in charge now is from Grandmother’s line. They’re saying it’s not fair.”

Aislin huffed, settling back on her heels. “Whatever. That’s just stupid.” She shook her head. “Can’t blame them about Vesper, though. She’s gotta know he won’t listen to a word she says. And he’ll fight her on everything. We’re as good as dead already.”

A hum of machinery echoed through the ship, and moments later, Vesper passed through the hold toward the cockpit. Aislin rolled her eyes as she rose to her feet, settling in the seat on Tanith’s other side. “Just wait,” she said. “She’s gonna regret it. We all are.”

Tanith’s stomach was beginning to churn again, and she felt Tibor’s question before she saw the subtle shift in his expression, the center of his brow slightly wrinkling upward.

“It’s fine,” she mumbled in response, ducking her head. Why was it so cold on this ship? She rubbed at her arms, hoping the others wouldn’t notice. Tensions were running high, and she didn’t want to risk showing any possible weakness.

They were in flight now, and she numbly followed suit as the others began to buckle themselves in. She felt hollow, empty—as though she’d left her heart back on the planet’s surface, and as they ascended through the atmosphere, a wave of nausea overtook her. __Wait. Please,__ she wanted to call out, to anyone who would listen, but the ringing in her ears overwhelmed her, and she may as well have been lost inside her own body, for all the control she held over it.

And as quickly as it arrived, the feeling it was gone. For a moment, she felt herself slightly lift against her safety harness, then gently settle back into her seat as the gravity system finally kicked in. It was done, then. They’d left Dathomir, and from now on, she didn’t know what to call home.

“Tanith?” She could hear Aislin’s voice beside her, but Tibor’s was louder, although he didn’t speak. She couldn’t look at him, instead turning to Aislin to make a funny face as her cousin cracked a joke. Tibor’s alarm was indistinguishable from her own, and she couldn’t bear to admit she’d never felt smaller or more lost in her life. At least she could lie to Aislin.

But later, once they’d settled into hyperspace and the others began to move around, she turned her attention back to her twin. He sat in silence beside her, his posture mirroring her own with head bowed, hands clamped on tops of knees.

“I’m glad you’re here, Ti.” The words barely escaped as a whisper—at any rate, she barely felt her lips move.

“Me too.”

His voice was soft as her own, and once more, his turmoil entwined with her own. But so did his strength, a far greater comfort than any of her sisters could hope to offer. If she had to be exiled, lost to the void of space, there was nobody she’d rather have at her side than her twin, and if there was a bright spot to any of this, it was that they’d been reunited once more.


	2. Arrival

“They’re letting us board.” Baz yanked off the headset, tossing it aside as he began flipping switches. “Port side, upper deck. They’ll activate a tractor beam once we get close.” He drew in a breath, reminding himself to unclench his jaw.

From the pilot’s seat, his cousin arched an eyebrow. “That’s it? Just like that?” Vesper sounded skeptical, and he couldn’t agree more himself.

“I know, we get to die on an enemy ship instead of home. Lucky us!” Sarcasm twisted his words, but he missed the warning look Vesper shot him until it was too late.

“Wait, what’s happening?”

Baz cringed at the sound of his sister’s voice. “None of your business.” He twisted around in his seat to glare at her. “Didn’t I tell you to stay out of the cockpit?”

“Since when are you in charge?” Aislin defiantly crossed her arms over her chest as she leaned against the bulkhead. “Where’d that ship come from? Are we under attack?”

“We’re _not _under attack,” Vesper interjected, and Baz felt her lightly kick the side of his ankle. “We’re actually about to board, apparently. Can you let the others know?”

“Sure thing.” After a moment’s hesitation, Aislin pushed off the bulkhead, but hesitated in the doorway. “Who’s ship is that, though? Why are they letting us board?”

“_Aislin!_” Baz savagely whirled to glare at her. “_Go_,” he ordered through gritted teeth. She rolled her eyes as she disappeared through the doorway, and Baz turned back around, still seething.

“You really need to stop picking fights with her,” Vesper quietly admonished, her gaze briefly flickering to his as she steered the ship.

Baz opened his mouth to protest, but decided against it, forcing down a simmer of resentment. “She needs to take this seriously,” he muttered instead.

“I don’t know, I think a little levity can help at a time like this,” Vesper remarked, but before he could form a retort, the sound of footfalls were echoing in the doorway.

“Are we really under attack?”

“Vesper, why would you give him the com?”

The girls who burst into the cockpit were practically frothing at the mouth, and Baz shot a withering glare at Aislin, who followed on their heels looking exceptionally smug. “Really?” he snapped.

“No one would tell me what’s going on, I had to draw my own conclusions.” Aislin shrugged, her eyes wide and innocent, and Baz lunged out of his seat.

“Grow up!” he barked. “It’s not funny!”

“_Guys!_” Vesper’s voice rose above the clamor, sharp and commanding. “All of you, cut it out. We’re here.” She pointed as the sides of the docking bay rose up around them, and they all fell silent as the solid _clunk _of the locking mechanism shuddered through the ship. “Right,” Vesper muttered, powering down the engine. “Here we go.”

She rose from the pilot’s seat, pushing her way through as she headed back to the main hold. “Get your things,” she said as the girls trailed after her, and Baz did as well, after stealing one last cursory glance around the cockpit. This all felt wrong—being pulled from the fighting, mingling with the Sisters, their flight from Dathomir, and now, docking on a foreign ship. He’d just as soon have taken their chances on their own, but Vesper was right about one thing—if they didn’t refuel soon, they’d be in a world of trouble.

A small cluster of uniformed figures waited at the bottom of the ramp as they descended into the hanger, and the presence of their weapons didn’t escape Baz’s notice. However, the officer’s eyes softened as he stepped forward to greet them. “You’re just kids,” he said.

Shoulders stiffened in unison throughout the group, but Vesper quickly spoke up before anyone cause a scene. “Thank you for letting us board,” she said. “We only need to refuel, and we’ll be on our way.

The officer grimaced. “Ah. Look, I would love to make that happen, but that’s just not a possibility right now,” he said, and Baz instantly felt the surge of energy from the others, even as his own blood rose.

“I’m sorry, what?” Vesper’s soft, pleasant tone had gone icy, and a tiny curl of apprehension leaked from the officer.

“I am sorry,” he said, “but we don’t have resources to spare. Our top priority is to make it to Coruscant, and we’re running low ourselves.” He smiled apologetically. “You’re welcome to stay, of course. We’re carrying quite a few refugees at the moment. The Empire’s greed knows no bounds, I’m afraid.” His face tightened with visible disdain, and Vesper gave a long sigh.

“That we can agree on,” she said shortly. “Look, all we need is to make it to the next port, wherever that is. We can figure the rest out from there.”

“Of course.” The officer nodded. “I can show you to the hold where the others have been staying. It’s close quarters, mind you, but it’s safe.”

“And only for a few days.” Something in Vesper’s tone begged for reassurance, and although Baz felt the desperation himself, he couldn’t help but cringe. To falter was to fail—all children of Dathomir learned this from birth, and coming from a leader it was nigh unforgivable.

“Only a few days.” He smiled. “Shall we?”

“Lead the way.” Vesper’s reply was curt, but Baz knew the other sisters would not be so quick to forget her moment of weakness. And as they followed the soldiers deeper into the starship, he felt his blood begin to boil.

He heard several growls of displeasure as he pushed through the others, but within moments, he was falling in step alongside Vesper. “Hey,” he hissed through gritted teeth, “just what do you think you’re doing?”

Vesper shot him a warning glare, her yellow eyes blazing with determined fury. “Do you have a better idea?” she bit out, her voice low and menacing.

Despite himself, Baz hesitated, and Vesper lunged as he made the same mistake she had. “Then keep quiet,” she hissed savagely, “and stop questioning me. You’re making us all look bad.”

Seething, Baz fell back, although he let his gaze burn holes in Vesper’s shoulders. _She _was the one, he reminded himself—not him—who’d painted them in a bad light. Her choice of him as her copilot had baffled him at the time, but he was somewhat pleased. Now, however, he was downright furious. Why select him and then proceed to ignore him? To not even ask for his advice on matters that affected them all?

But really, he decided, he was angry at Dagmar. Sending him off with the children had been pointless, but to not even place him in charge? He’d have been much better off defending the planet. Did the Dathomir he’d known his whole life even exist anymore? He had no way of knowing—because here he was, babysitting a baby playing babysitter. Who had the nerve to treat _him_ like a child.

Out of the corner of his eye, he could catch a glimpse of his bratty baby sister, tossing her hair over her shoulder as she talked to another girl. And near the back of the group, he could feel the quiet hum of the twins’ combined presences. _They _were the ones he was worried about, the youngest of Dagmar’s line, who now had targets painted on their backs. He’d let this slide for now, he decided, for their sakes. But Vesper was clearly proving herself incompetent, and if this continued, he’d have no choice but to step in.


	3. Attack

Aislin idly tapped her toe against the side of the storage crate she slumped against, leaning her head on the cold grey durasteel. Five days had passed since they’d boarded the Republic cruiser, and there didn’t seem to be any end in sight. Troubles with the hyperspace engine seemed to be the culprit for the agonizing pace, according from the chatter she’d heard around the ship, and since they’d been here, there hadn’t been any attempts to make a jump. Just steadily puttering along, and in the endless void of space, they were essentially adrift. She didn’t mind it—not exactly, or at least not their surroundings. It was her first time in space, and on the few occasions she’d managed to slip away, all she’d wanted to do was admire the view.

But those had been rare, and as she gazed out across the hold, she felt a prickle of irritation as the reality of the situation weighed down on her. The hold was packed full with other refugees of all species, all of them looking as miserable as she felt. The air was close and stale, the durasteel floor was hard, her limbs were cramping, and a feeling of restlessness was welling up in her as the indecipherable chatter made her head ache.

Sweeping her gaze to the side, she caught a glimpse of Tanith, head bent as she discussed something with her twin, their expressions serious. They’d been inseparable since they’d reunited aboard the ship, and Aislin fought down a spurt of bitterness. On a sudden impulse, she pushed off the crate and rose to her feet, ignoring the sounds of disgruntlement from those she jostled against. Carefully stepping over hands and legs, she made her way over to them.

“Hey. Come on, let’s go,” she said jostling Tanith’s calf with her foot, and her cousin broke off mid-sentence, turning up to her in surprise.

“What? Where are we going?” she asked skeptically, but bounced to her feet regardless.

“Come on. I need to talk to you,” Aislin urged, silently hoping the leaders wouldn’t notice her attempting to escape. “And bring your staff.”

Tanith’s brow furrowed, but she complied, grabbing her collapsed training staff and turning to her brother apologetically. “Sorry Tibor,” she said. “I’ll be right back.”

“Sure. No problem,” he said evenly. “I’ll just sit here by myself then.” But she didn’t miss the glare he shot her with, and she rolled her eyes in response, taking Tanith’s elbow and quickly escorting her toward the exit.

Tanith, to her credit, kept her mouth shut as they fled across the hold, and they made it to the exit without any shouts following them. A few soldiers were clustered in the hallway outside, but barely gave them a second glance as they scurried by. The further they went, the more deserted it became, and Aislin found herself breathing easier. The air was cooler and cleaner out here, and she could see a smile breaking over Tanith’s face as they sped up, practically running through the halls.

Finally they reached the stretch of corridor she’d been searching for, and she skidded to a stop, Tanith pulling up short behind her. “What is it?” she asked breathlessly, and Aislin felt the grin begin to spread across her face.

“Look,” she said, gesturing to the viewport. The transparisteel stretched the length of the hallway, revealing the inky black expanse of space, pricked with the silvery light of distant stars. She turned to beam at Tanith, and was rewarded with the expression on her cousin’s face.

“Wow.” Tanith breathed the single syllable as softly as a sigh. She made straight for the viewport as if drawn by a magnet, lifting her fingers to the transparisteel.

“Isn’t it cool?” Aislin leaned up on the transparisteel beside her. “I’ve been coming here every day.”

“It’s beautiful.” Tanith smiled, but something in her face faltered, and Aislin winced as her chin began to wobble. Something was wrong with Tanith, and she’d sensed the quiet storm brewing in her cousin, slowing growing stronger since they’d left Dathomir.

“But that’s not why we’re here,” she said briskly, pulling away from the window. Slipping her hand into her sash, she withdrew her collapsed training staff, snapping it out the full length.

Tanith’s head sharply turned at the sound, and any traces of tears faded from her face as a smirk slowly took over. She didn’t say a word, but she took out her own, disconnecting it into two separate halves at the middle. Aislin grinned, and then Tanith was upon her and they began to spar.

They had been matched up together for training ever since they were young girls, and at this point, she knew her cousin’s moves as well as her own. But the same was true for Tanith, and although her muscles’ memory could easily counter, Tanith didn’t hold back, and she was flushed and breathing heavily after several rounds.

“Hungry?” she asked when they finally paused for a break, pulling out a ration packet. “I’ve only got the one but we can share.” But Tanith shook her head.

“My stomach hurts,” she said softly. She was getting that distant look on her face again, and Aislin sighed to herself. Clearly she was still in need of a distraction.

“Another round, then?” But Tanith didn’t respond, and when Aislin turned around, she saw Tanith sagging away as she faced the window, eyes wide and face gone grey. Aislin opened her mouth to ask what was wrong, but then she felt it too, a noxious knot of dread twisting to life in the pit of her stomach. And then it happened.

The first ship to drop out of hyperspace was a massive cruiser, immediately followed by two others flanking. But they were dwarfed in comparison by the colossal behemoth that came roaring out of the darkness of space behind them, and Aislin immediately felt faint as she recognized the same silhouette that had hovered above the skies of Dathomir just days before. And as the cannons of the warships began to glow with impending fire, she forced aside the lump in her throat to scream a single word: “_Run!_”

They hadn’t even made it out of the corridor when the first blasts hit, the impact shuddering through the ship and knocking their feet out from under them. Somewhere in the distance a siren began to blare as Tanith scrambled up, extending a hand to Aislin. She allowed her cousin to haul her to her feet, but didn’t release her hold as they sprinted down the hall. Tanith also clutched her hand in a death grip, for which she was grateful, clinging as tightly as she could to her lifeline.

Another explosion rocked the ship, and this time she saw the spray of fighters, insect-like against the hulking backdrop of the warships as they came screaming forward. The lights flickered, casting eerie shadows across Tanith’s terrified face, and Aislin stumbled as they briefly went out altogether.

As the turned a corner, a cluster of Republic soldiers raced past, guns at the ready, and a few briefly paused to turn in their direction. “You kids can’t be here!” one shouted, voice muffled by the mask they wore. “They’ve boarded! Go! Get out of here!” And then they were gone, and the girls paused for the first time, turning to each other.

“We’ve got to get back to the others.” Tanith hid it well, but her clipped voice and wide eyes betrayed her fear.

“Don’t worry.” Aislin knew she was no better as she fought to keep the tremor from her tone. “I know another way.” _At least I think I do_, she added to herself, but there was no way she was voicing that out loud. Wheeling around, she pulled her cousin back they way they’d come, darting down an unfamiliar side passage. If she’d mapped it correctly, they should be able to work their way around to the other side of the hold. If they—

But any thoughts of escape immediately vanished as they rounded a corner straight into the path of a cluster of soldiers—the Imperial insignia clear on their uniforms.

“Run!” she gasped out, but too late, as one had already lifted their gun level with Tanith. “No!” She lunged forward, throwing herself towards her cousin, but there was a flash and Tanith crumpled to the floor. She might have shrieked, but she couldn’t know for certain—the horror coursing through her dulled her senses. Flinging herself down beside Tanith, she desperately grasped at her: to haul her to her feet, to check for signs of life, _anything_. But there was another flash, and then she knew no more.


	4. Escape

As much as he tried to fight it, Tibor felt a pang of sadness as Tanith and Aislin disappeared out the far end of the hanger. Whatever adventures they were headed off to, didn’t it even cross their minds that he might like to join in too?

Rather than give in, he leaned back and crossed his arms with a scowl, already plotting his revenge. He could always alert one of the Sisters, but he’d never been a snitch and he wasn’t about to start now. Tanith’s bag still lay beside his feet, and he idly considered the possibilities. Maybe he could scout the dark corners of the hold and find some kind of many-legged space slug to stuff inside. But knowing Tanith, she’d probably be undeterred, and likely even adopt it as a pet. Aislin, on the other hand, would be far more susceptible to such a prank, but he’d never identify her bag among a sea of others—not without attracting attention, of course.

So instead, he crossed his legs beneath him and took several long breaths, preparing to meditate. A warrior had to train his mind as well as his body, after all. And maybe the answer would come to him in the meantime.

In truth, he didn’t particularly enjoy meditation, his mind buzzing with ideas far too rapidly for him to settle into it. But on a rare occasion, he could achieve the quiet sense of powerful purpose that the older brothers talked about. But today, neither was the case.

He felt his surroundings dull around him fairly quickly, but his awareness seemed to settle around a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach, a whisper of a warning that wouldn’t go away. Instead, it seemed to spread, tendrils of evil spreading their poison through his body. His throat closed up, his eyes stung and his face burned, and he thrashed weakly against the sensation, but his limbs were limp and powerless. And deep in his chest, he felt an inconsolable sense of grief, of fear and loneliness and a crushing, overwhelming sense of guilt that he couldn’t find a source to.

And then reality came flooding back, and his eyes snapped open. “Tanith!”

A few odd glances were cast his way, but he ignored them as he scrambled to his feet, terror pounding through his veins. He had to find her, to warn her—before it was too late.

But he’d barely made it three steps before a sharp voice stopped him in his tracks. “_Tibor!”_

Despite his panic, he slowly turned to face the source, grimacing to himself. Baz stood just a meter away, eyes blazing with fury. “Where do you think you’re going?” he demanded through clenched teeth. “Sit down.”

The words were stuck in his throat, but he managed to force them out into a sentence. “I have to find Tanith,” he blurted out, and Baz’s eyes narrowed.

“Where is she?” He turned to scan the Sisters clustered on the floor, and his jaw tightened. “Is she with Aislin?” But Tibor didn't need to answer as the realization clicked in Baz’s face, and he shook his head.

“Stay here,” he said brittley. “I’ll deal with this.” He stalked toward the exit, but as he brushed past, Tibor reached out, grasping at his sleeve.

“You don’t understand,” he said desperately. “We have to warn them, it’s coming!”

Baz rolled his eyes. “Stop it, just sit down!” he ordered, jerking his arm free. But as Tibor opened his mouth to protest, a tremor rocked the ship, and the lights overhead flickered.

A cold feeling settled over Tibor’s shoulders like a cloak of suffocation, and he slowly shook his head. “It’s too late,” he whispered. He could feel it, the same darkness that had plagued him during his meditation, and deep in his core, he knew it was too late.

Baz took him by the shoulders and shook him once, hard. “Stop it! It’s just more engine trouble” But Tibor couldn’t help but notice the color had drained from his face, and whatever was happening, he knew Baz could sense it, too.

All around them, brothers and sisters were also noticing, rising to their feet and exchanging panicked expressions. And then as the ship gave another shudder, the lights went out, and an alarm began to sound as emergency beacons lit up along the walls.

Screams echoed through the hold as a distorted voice gave incomprehensible instructions through the crackling comm system. For a moment, Tiber hesitated, and then, taking advantage of the chaos, he bolted. He could hear Baz shouting in protest behind him but he ignored it, determinedly forcing his way through the crowd as he sprinted for the exit.

In the corridor, he closed his eyes against the dizzying effect of the strobing lights, relying on his intuition to carry him forward. The blaring alarms drowned out any coherent thought, but if he concentrated, he was certain he could feel Tanith’s presence off in the distance. He could still make it, he told himself. He could make it, he could warn her. And then a hand clamped down on his elbow, yanking him to a stop.

He tipped backward, arms flailing as he was swung around to face an irate Baz. “Just what do you think you’re doing?” he yelled, eyes blazing. “What’s wrong with you?” He was breathing hard and a faint shimmer of sweat coated his face, glimmering as the lights pulsed.

And perhaps for the first time in his life, Tibor found he had had enough of Baz. “I’m finding my sister!” he shouted back, lifting his free arm to shove Baz squarely in the chest. His blow was entirely ineffective, not even rattling Baz, but the action was freeing and he struck again, and again. “Let me go!”

Baz’s eyes widened in shock, and a flicker of danger crossed them, but his face hardened into a mask of resolve. “Listen to me!” he shouted, his grip tightening, fingers digging into Tibor’s arm. “If you go after them, it’s just going to be three of you scattered out there alone!” He released his hold, instead offering a hand. “Stronger together. Remember?”

Tibor hesitated, then briefly took it, gripping firmly. “Fine,” he begrudgingly relented, but there was a grinding sound behind them, and they turned to see the corridor doors sealing shut.

“Oh for…” Baz’s face darkened and he sprinted back down the hall. “Hey! Hey, we’re out here!” But there was no response, and he turned, cursing under his breath. “Okay,” he called, jogging back to Tibor. “We’ll do it your way, but we’ve got to move. And we have to get to the other side of the hold.”

But the twists and turns of the ship’s corridors didn’t seem to lead them any closer to their goal, and the alarms and distant shouts continued as the ship trembled like a leaf in the wind. At one point, Tibor was sure he heard blaster fire coming from inside the ship, but Baz immediately pivoted and led them back the way they’d come.

And then, worst of all, the ambiance grew eerily silent. No alarms, no voices, only the dim pallid glow of the narrow strips of emergency lights lining the corridors. The air was heavy with smoke, Tibor noted, burning his sinuses as he breathed it in.

Baz seemed wary as well, an unusual hesitation in his step as he tentatively led them forward. And then a masked figure stepped out directly into their path.

Baz reacted instantaneously, his staff immediately in his hand and snapped out to full length as he pushed Tibor behind him.

Tibor drew his own staff as well, heart pounding, but the figure pulled off the mask and Tibor vaguely recognized him, a soldier he’d seen around the ship.

“You kids shouldn’t be here.” His voice was a raspy whisper, filled with urgency, and Baz scoffed.

“Yeah, well, we’re working on that,” Baz said stiffly. “We have to get back to Hold Grek. The rest of our people are there.

The soldier grimaced. “Hold Grek was destroyed and evacuated,” he said brusquely. “All civilians were. You gotta get to the escape pods now.”

“Not without our clan,” Baz insisted, but the soldier‘s face tightened.

“Look, kid, this is a war zone. You gotta go now.” Tibor’s eyes flickered to where he’d lifted his blaster ever so slightly. “Besides, that’s where your people will be. If they’re still alive.”

Baz stiffened, but the soldier was tossing him his mask. “Here. Take this,” he said shortly. “They’re using some sort of chemical weapon. And here. You there.” He was addressing Tibor now, unfolding another one from a pouch at his side. “Get down to the lowest level. That’s where the last of the escape pods are launching from,” he instructed as he jogged past them. “And keep your skin covered,” he called over his shoulder.

And then he was gone, and they were alone in the silent hallway. Baz had already donned his mask, and Tibor followed suit. For a moment he felt vaguely claustrophobic as it settled around his head, and then it sealed into place, and he relaxed as the air began to flow. The quiet was muffled by the mask, and he could barely hear his own footsteps as they hurried along in the direction the soldier had indicated.

They’d made it a level down when they passed the first of the bodies. Mostly Republic with a few Imperials scattered among them, they lay crumpled like ragdolls, blaster burns scorched across their bodies. His stomach turned, and it didn’t escape his notice when Baz began to move a little faster, his brisk walk morphing into a light jog. Tibor picked up his pace as well, squashing down the fear boiling up inside him. He could still feel Tanith, when he could spare the focus, and that was his last remaining shred of hope he clung to. She was out there, and they could still make it out of this.

When they finally reached their destination, the hallway was dark aside from the blinking control panel lights of the sealed hanger door. For a moment, Tibor’s heart leapt into his throat as Baz fiddled with the release. Were they too late? But then the doors slid open, and they immediately had a whole new set of problems.

The gravity here had failed, and Tibor clung to the doorframe as he surveyed the scene of destruction. The hanger was deep and long, with rows of escape pods stacked up along the sides, some missing, most damaged beyond repair. Scorch marks were present everywhere, with chunks of debris blasted loose, and perhaps most concerning was the massive crack snaking its way across the viewport at the far end of the hanger—if it broke open, they’d be lost to the void of space. But worst of all were the bodies that floated among the hunks of twisted durasteel.

His attention was pulled away from the massacre as Baz nudged his arm and pointed to something up ahead—a light, green and steady, above one of the upper pods. Unlaunched and undamaged. There was still a way out. Taking the hand Baz offered, he floated over to him and gripped the other side of the doorframe as Baz positioned himself and kicked off.

Somehow, they made it through the hanger, leapfrogging their way over empty pod hulls and the occasional chunk of debris. Tibor could barely dare to breathe, certain that one slip would set them adrift in the open expanse among the dead. But then at last—they were there, and Tibor clung to the entrance frame, gripping Baz’s free arm as he fiddled with the control panel. For one terrifying moment, he wondered if it’d all been for nothing, if the pod was damaged and they’d hang here in the darkness until they ran out of air--or the Imperials came back and killed them.

But then the doors finally opened, and Baz slid in first, anchoring himself and pulling Tibor over. As he prepared to duck through the opening, though, something caught his eye, and his heart leapt into his throat.

It was a body floating nearby—not remarkable, given the circumstances; the hanger was filled with them. But this one was dressed entirely in tattered red clothing, long white hair drifting to obscure her face.

“Baz,” he tried to say, but the mask muffled his speech. He tried again, resisting as Baz attempted to pull him in and tapping his shoulder, gesturing wildly toward the Sister.

Baz’s gaze followed this time, and he stiffened, clearly noticing her as well. But shook his head, tugging insistently on Tibor’s elbow.

Instead, Tibor yanked his arm free, almost dislodging his grip on the frame in the process. He righted himself, hoping his glare was communicated through his mask as he urgently pointed—to himself, and then to the body. _I’m going to get her, _he silently conveyed.

He turned again, but Baz gave a savage jerk, and he steeled himself, preparing for a fight. But instead, Baz was shaking his downcast head. He gripped the edge alongside Tibor, then nodded in the direction of the body. _All right._

Taking a steadying breath, Tibor gently pushed off as he let go of the edge, allowing himself to float free with only Baz’s grip on his ankle tethering him to the pod. As he neared the body he reached out, but didn’t even come close to the girl’s floating form. He glanced back at Baz, who held up a single finger. _One minute._

Baz adjusted his grip, hooking a foot in the gap between the doors and lightly pushing off, propelling Tibor further out as he did so. Grimacing at the precarious foot placement, he turned his attention back to the Sister.

She drifted just out of reach, and he strained, fingers splayed wide, trying to grasp a scrap of clothing, a piece of hair—anything. He cast a desperate glance over his shoulder at Baz, just barely clinging to the pod. If he lost his foothold, they were as good as dead, all three of them.

But then, her form rotated ever so slightly, and—_there! _A finger hooked through a loose wrap, and he had her, wildly waving with his free hand as Baz began to pull them back. And then all three of them were pressing through the pod opening, the interior lights activating as the doors sealed behind them. A quick flash of light, a jolt of movement, and they were free, the pod ejecting out into space.

From the tiny viewport, Tibor could see the massive Imperial cruisers circled like vultures around the husk of the Republic ship. He suddenly realized how very alone and in danger they were, and fear boiled in the pit of his stomach. But somehow, no laser canon blasted them apart, and no tractor beam pulled them into the dark belly of the beast.

A flurry of activity behind him caught his attention, and he turned to see Baz yanking off his mask. After a few tentative breaths, his expression relaxed, and Tibor followed suit, taking deep gulps of the precious air. Attention turning to the other occupant of the pod, he watched as Baz carefully maneuvered her hair away from her face—and let out a sharp gasp.

The bottom half of her face was covered by a rebreather, but the exposed top half was raw, covered in blisters and eyes swollen shut. Blood thickly oozed from somewhere under her hair, matting in the silvery strands. But even so, he recognized her immediately. “It’s Vesper.”

Tears sprang to his eyes unbidden as Baz tore off the rebreather and desperately pressed against her neck, feeling for a pulse. His memories of his oldest sister were hazy, having only seen her a handful of times since he’d been sent to the boys’ village. He and Tanith had their twin bond, but he and Vesper had never been close. Still, she was his sister, not just by clan, but by blood. And with Dathomir lightyears away and the rest of their clan dead or dying on a collapsing star cruiser, she was all he had left. “She’s alive.”

Tibor breathed a shaky sigh of relief as Baz gasped out the words, sagging away from Vesper’s unconscious body. Their gazes met, and Baz suddenly looked very small. His eyes were wide and his tattoos stood out sharply against his pallid face, and with his typical self-assured swagger gone, it suddenly struck Tibor that Baz wasn’t that much older than he was.

Glancing away, Baz stared out the window at the chaotic scene, slowly growing smaller and more distant. “Listen,” he said suddenly, a hint of the old confident Baz returning. “We’ll wait until they’re gone and then activate the beacon. I don’t want to draw any attention until we’re sure it’s safe.”

_Unless they find us first, _Tibor silently added, but he simply nodded, turning back to Vesper. She appeared to stir, letting out a pained moan as her body twitched, but thankfully, she stayed under.

But he couldn’t stave off the impending sense of dread nonetheless. They still had to last however long it took for the Imperial ships to clear out, and then however long _(if at all) _it took for the beacon to be picked up by a friendly ship. All that while, they were burning through resources, and Vesper was in desperate need of medical attention. Any way you looked at it, they were running out of time.

Sighing to himself, he turned back to the viewport. His twin was out there somewhere. Despite no proof and plenty of evidence to the contrary, he was sure of it. If she were dead, he’d know, although he couldn’t explain why. It was like their twin bond, but another facet of it, a second heartbeat alongside his own that he’d never been aware of until now, when it’d faded to a soft echo, almost too faint to tell. But it was there nonetheless, and with it was hope.

He stole a glance at Baz, silent and pensive, and then at Vesper, unconscious and bleeding. Just survive. It was all they could do for now. And so he curled up against the bulkhead and watched as one by one, the Imperial ships began to disappear into hyperspace. So far, so good. If they made it through this, they could figure the rest out later.


	5. Aftermath

The couple in the next tent was arguing again.

Vesper groaned, reaching over her shoulder to grasp the far corner of her thin pillow and wrapping it around her head to press over her ear, but it did little to muffle the sounds. She gave up, instead turning over to lie flat on her back. Not that it made any difference.

In the months since the flight from Dathomir, they’d been in seven different refugee camps, but this particular stay had been the longest so far. The weeks were dragging on, each longer than the last, and each pulling her deeper and deeper into a toxic bog of self-pity. It wasn’t just losing her home, her family, and her future. It wasn’t even watching her sisters, girls she’d spent her entire life with, dying in agony in front of her, faces swelling as they clawed at their throats. Some days, it was simply that Baz and Tibor were free to leave and work and explore and soak up each planet they traveled to, while she had essentially become a prisoner inside her own body.

The loss of her sight was one thing—she still found herself in extreme bouts of rage and grief over the entire horrible business. Every camp medic who’d attended to her had assured her she’d adapt, that’d it’d be a process, but she’d adjust. But she couldn’t even begin to because of the pain.

Her burns had healed, leaving the top half of her face mottled with angry scars that were still tender to the touch, but they’d stopped bothering her long ago. The problem was that there was something else, something wrong deep inside her head that sent a piercing, near-constant pain shooting through her skull, along with waves of nausea whenever she moved more than a fraction of an inch. The medics who’d saved her life had done just that, but that was what they were trained to do. A brain injury this severe required a specialist, and that, in turn, required credits—something they most decidedly did not have.

And so she was confined to the government-issued tent that had become her entire world. If it were just the blindness, she could have cooked and done laundry and picked up around tent, or maybe even found some work herself. Instead, she spent her days lying as still as possible on a narrow, rickety cot, trying to drown out the noises of the camp around her. Sometimes she almost succeeded, withdrawing so deep inside herself that the pain was left trapped outside, each rise and fall of her chest seeming to belong to the planet itself. Meanwhile, Baz and Tibor rose at dawn and returned after dark, working themselves to the bone at various odd jobs before returning to care for her. She was not unaware that without her, they could leave the camp and have a real fighting chance, and some part of her quietly whispered that things could not continue like this.

She felt something then, a dim awareness of a presence, and then came a flutter of air and movement as someone entered the tent. “Vesper? It’s Tibor,” her brother said, and she felt the corners of her mouth flicker regardless. He was so serious, her little brother. So careful, so concerned, and surprisingly reliable. At some point, he’d grown up, and she hadn’t noticed. Had she even cared? Try as she might, she couldn’t form a single solid memory of him from the past several years, she shook off the lingering feeling of shame.

“Well hello” she said, shaking off the lingering feeling of shame, but hearing her tone fall flat despite her attempts to sound cheerful.. “How’d it go?”

“Good!” He was pulling off the happy facade far better than her; his bright tone was flawless, but she could feel the dark cloud of worry emanating from him regardless. “Got you something,” he said, and she didn’t even need to see his face—the smirk was clear in his words.

“Oh?” she asked, and she felt movement beside her.

“Hold still,” he instructed briskly, and then a sharp pain pierced her thigh.

“Ouch!” she screeched, impulsively swatting at him. “_Kriff, _Tibor!”

“Hey, I’m helping you!” he snapped back, shoving her shoulder—but then she felt it, the fog slowly moving through her body, numbing everything in its path. Including the pain in her head.

“Oh,” she said slowly, the tension fading from her limbs as her body relaxed. The relief was so great she could have cried, and despite the soft edges, she could feel it all so clearly, the rough texture of the blankets, the fear and pride rolling off her brother in equal measures, the exhaustion and sorrow of the bickering couple next door, and the dismal, uneasy atmosphere of the entire camp.

Very slowly, she allowed herself to sit up, raking her hands through her tangled mess of hair, and she almost laughed out loud. It felt so good to be upright again, to have her body function like a _real _person’s, without being immediately struck down and rendered helpless by a blast of pain.

“Told you.” Tibor was beaming, exceptionally pleased with himself, and that was when she felt a prickle of worry creep in.

“Wait...Tibor,” she said slowly. “How did you _get _this?” The pause before he responded told her everything she needed—or rather, didn’t want—to know.

“You could just say thank you,” he said lightly, and she shook her head, swinging her legs over the side of the bed.

“Tibor,” she began, then bit her lip. He was right, and between her gratitude and her guilt, she couldn’t decide which outweighed which. “It’s not worth it,” she said quietly. “This…” She took a deep breath. A pain medication of this caliber was not cheap, and whatever he’d done to get it, it was likely both dangerous and illegal. “It’s not a necessity,” she said, choosing her words carefully. “We...we could have bought food instead. Or passage. We could put it toward leaving the camp.” But when the blaze of anger erupted from him, she knew she’d misspoke.

“So now we have plans to leave camp? First I’ve heard of it,” he bit out sarcastically. “Guess I shouldn’t have bothered then. You’re welcome, by the way.”

“You’re being ridiculous,” she snapped back before she could stop herself—but then she felt another presence.

“Everything all right?” Baz sounded wary, and she felt a quick flash of guilt.

“Yes. It’s nothing,” she said quietly, but the tension persisted.

“I need to talk to you,” he said, and she heard his feet shuffling nervously. A current of anxiety was rolling off of him, and she could feel a similar flutter beginning deep in her own stomach.

“Tibor, give us a minute,” she instructed, but as he bristled, Baz interrupted.

“No, he...he can hear this too. Actually he needs to.” There was a brief pause, and then he dropped a bomb. “I’m leaving.”

She blinked, thinking surely she’d misunderstood, but he continued.

“I’ve enlisted in the Republic Army. My unit deploys tonight. I have to go.” He hesitated. “I’m sorry.”

Judging by the sounds, he was assembling his meager belongings, and the idea sent a quick spurt of panic through her. Now? He couldn’t, what was he thinking? She opened her mouth, a thousand different protests on her tongue, but Tibor beat her to the punch.

“Baz..._seriously_?” His quiet astonishment was punctuated by a ripple of fear, and she felt her heart break.

“I have to.” Baz’s tone was resolute. “Take care of your sister, okay? You’re our last warrior. She needs you.” 

His words sent a white hot flash of rage through her, and she pushed up off the cot. But although it dulled the pain, the medication also muffled her movements, and she staggered, grasping wildly for something to catch herself on. Luckily, her hand struck a tent pole, and she clung to it as she steadied herself, ignoring the impact that reverberated up through her arm—she’d have a nasty bruise to deal with later.

There was a gust of air where Baz had just exited the tent, and she could feel his presence—fierce and frightened and resolute—slipping further and further away, and that was when the panic began to truly claim her. She barely knew the layout of the tent—much less what lay beyond it, but trusting her instincts, she took a deep breath and slipped out after him.

“_Baz!_” she shouted, putting full weight behind her voice, and she felt him freeze. “What are you thinking?” she demanded, continuing her slow, stumbling march forward, and hoping desperately there was nothing blocking her path. “Have you lost your damn mind?”

“I have no choice.” His words were filled with cold fire. “It’s time to make the Empire pay. This is my chance to avenge us.”

“Do you even hear yourself?” she shot back. “You’re so selfish, aren’t you ashamed? Tibor’s a child! He can’t take care of me! What are we supposed to do?”

She felt him flinch, but when he spoke, his voice was unyielding. “It’s a matter of honor,” he said brittly. “I have to do this.”

“Baz, _wait._” It came out as a sob, and she felt him pause once more.

“My mother’s dead, Baz.” It was the first time she’d spoken it out loud, the secret she’d been keeping since Dathomir, and now she had his attention. “Did you know that? Grandmother told me before we left.” She continued advancing slowly. “And yours probably is, too. Your sister? My sister? Everyone on the cruiser. On the planet. They all are by now.”

She took a deep breath and stepped forward, gravel and mud squishing between her toes. “We’re all that’s left, Baz. This, right here. Us. You, me, and Tibor. You want to fight for Dathomir? Fine. But do it for the Dathomir that’s still here. Not the one that’s gone.”

She knew her words hurt him, and for a moment he wavered, and she thought maybe she’d gotten through to him. But then his resolve hardened, tougher than ever, and she knew she’d lost.

“Goodbye, Vesper,” he said without a trace of emotion. “I’ll send credits when they come in.” And then he was gone.

She stood alone in the road, the chaos of camp swirling around her as her bare feet sank into the cold mud. Her burning rage was fading, replaced with grief, and she was vaguely aware that she would have a hard time navigating back to the tent without it. But then she felt a ripple of a familiar presence, and a hand clamped down on her arm. Neither she nor Tibor said a word as he guided her back to the tent, a terse silence filling the space between them. The moment the tent flap closed behind them, lending the illusion of privacy, Tibor whirled on her.

“Is it true?” His voice was taut, like a string on an instrument. “Is Mother really dead?”

The words stuck in her throat as she nodded. “Yes,” she whispered.

For a moment, he was silent. Then, “And everyone back home?” His voice cracked on the last note, and she could feel moisture gathering in the corners of her useless eyes.

“The defenses were just about all broken through,” she admitted. “Most of our Sisters and Brothers were dead. And we’d lost all contact with the other villages. We were all that was left. The last children of Dathomir. Grandmother wanted to give us a fighting chance.

She swallowed hard, and despite herself, the words kept coming. “I was supposed to be in charge,” she admitted feebly. “I was supposed to protect us. Only...I must have miscalculated, or maybe the coordinates were wrong to begin with, but the station we were jumping to was gone. Then that freighter came along and I...I thought we’d be safe.”

Sobs were wracking her body now, and she felt an intense burn of shame. If there had remained any possibility that she had not utterly failed as a leader, it died here. She couldn’t even stay strong for one single brother—her own brother of blood, no less. But when Tibor finally spoke, his words surprised her.

“Baz is an idiot,” he said flatly. “But he’s out there. So is Tanith. And if Aislin’s with her, she probably is, too. And in that hanger—some of the pods were launched. Maybe some of the others got out.”

His certainty broke her heart, and she bit her lip as she contemplated how to respond. “I...know it’s tempting,” she began through her tears, only to wince. Kriff. She was bad at this. “But that...that kind of hope...it’s only going to hurt more in the long run. Even...even if—“

“But Tanith’s not dead!” Tibor interrupted hotly. “I would know if she was, and she’s not! I don’t know how but I _feel _it,” he continued, a feverish intensity glazing his words. “Even after I got sent to the Brothers’ village, she was there. And...and then in that pod. Floating out there. She...she wasn’t _there_ anymore, but that’s how I knew she wasn’t _gone_.”

He was struggling, trying to find words for something undefinable, but suddenly she understood all too well. When she retreated beneath the layers of pain and felt the very planet’s heartbeat echoing through her, she felt it, too—something she’d only touched before with magick. She wasn’t truly a witch yet, but she’d been well on her way. She’d always known these forces existed, but now, she found them spilling unbidden into her daily life, broken as it was. Maybe it was the same for Tibor. Maybe she had underestimated her brother.

Her tears were drying now, and she found herself nodding in agreement as she scrubbed them away from her scarred cheeks. “All right,” she said, because she didn’t know what else to say. And then, “I believe you,” because she did. Despite it all, she did.

The suspicion finally eased from Tibor, and for a moment, a hint of the scared young boy returned. “What are we gonna do without Baz?” he asked, and she took a deep breath. There was an idea, quietly blooming in the back of her mind, and now, she brought it out into the sun.

“The...the meds,” she said slowly, and Tibor stiffened.

“Yeah?”

She swallowed hard. “How...how hard would it be to get more?”

She was met with silence, and when he finally spoke, his words were slow and deliberate. “I could do it. It might take some time. A few days. Maybe a few weeks. But I could do it.” She nodded slowly, and then came the inevitable, “Why?”

She bit her lip as she felt her way back over to her cot, settling down on it as she spoke. “I have a...a plan,” she began, keeping her voice low as she thought of their neighbors. “It’s maybe not a very good one. At the least, it’s certainly not noble. But…” She hesitated, then rushed on ahead. “If you get me the meds, I can be on my feet. I can move. Maybe even fight. Some of those places you and Baz go are dangerous, right?”

“Yeah, but Vesper, I don’t think—”

“No, you don’t understand,” she interrupted. “If I go there alone, I’m an easy target—right?” He was clearly confused, so she continued. “Maybe I’m, I don’t know, selling something. Maybe I’m asking for help. Either way, they see easy credits and I lure them away, only you’re right behind us and we turn on them. Together.”

“Oh,” he said, and at last he understood. She could hear the smile breaking through his words as he spoke. “Vesper that’s genius.”

She laughed a little. “Maybe,” she said. “Or maybe just really stupid. But if it works, then it’s our best option. “It’d keep us afloat.”

“No, it’s brilliant. Really,” he continued, his words spilling out faster in a rush of excitement. “I’ll get you another dose as soon as I can. Then we’ll go down there in daylight and plan. Maybe do a trial run? Then we’ll do the real thing.” He continued to chatter on, clearly excited, and she smiled a little, despite the guilt lingering in her chest.

She was still here, she reminded herself. Suffering and broken, but alive. Grandmother had chosen her, and she’d promised to lead—a promise she intended to keep. So maybe it wasn’t grand gestures and inspiring speeches. Maybe it really was a series of crimes, planned and committed in a dirty refugee camp lightyears from a home that didn’t exist anymore. It wasn’t what she’d expected, and it certainly wasn’t glamorous. But it was what was needed. And as long as she still held life in her body, she would do everything in her power to survive.


End file.
